Prima Prima Ballerina
by Emera-Rene
Summary: A/U L*P Thirteen weeks. A story of boy meets girl; two dancers, one on the cusp of greatness, one deprived of the career he strived so hard for. She hates him. He's not too keen on her. Ultimately a little story about a flourishing relationship.


**Week 1**

**Her**

'Okay you can all go. But I want you all in here and warmed up by 8am'

A quiet hum of disapproval echos around the high ceilinged room.

Their lack of drive irritates me but I've learned to block it out. I hear the rhythm instead; the beat of their voices, the shuffling of their slippers against hard wooden floors. I hear the beat and I stop myself from moving to it, from performing again what I've just royally screwed up.

Instead I linger.

My face is flaming hot.

I don't cry.

But I can feel the tears prickling at my eyes. _Don't cry. _

'Peyton. A word' I look up. John Knight; the man that I look up to, put on a pedestal above everyone else because he's my mentor and he has the power to change everything with the click of his fingers. I know what's coming but I don't want this conversation. I let my stare skitter around the room. Most people have filtered out now but the few stragglers loiter; I can almost see the glee in their eyes. They know I fucked it up. Everyone knows.

'What happened?'

'I know' I shake my head and look to the ground before the humiliation becomes too much. 'I was all over the place-'

'I'm talking about your arm?'

I blink and follow his gaze to the raw red lines running up my forearm.

'Oh that' I shrug. _That_ was the last thing on my mind right now. 'I fell... last night' I vaguely answer. With his acknowledgement of my war wound I was suddenly aware of the dull ache there.

'You fell?'

'Well you see there were-'

He wavers his hand, disinterested with every detail of my injury. I gladly shut up.

'For one of the most graceful dancers you can be a klutz' He mutters.

'I'm sorry I messed up' I guide the conversation back to my performance. 'I know you expect more of me'

'Peyton I can't fault what you just did. Despite being injured, that arm was still just as it should be and you haven't complained nor grimaced once I might add and that looks rather sore. Have you had it looked at? You might need stitches'

'It's just a scratch. I'm fine...so you just wanted...'

'To check you were okay?' An amused smirk quirks his lips.

I don't see what's so funny.

'I know I'm hard on you but I'm not all bad am I?'

'Well if that was all?' I can still get a few more hours practice in if I he lets me go.

'Why're you auditioning for this part?'

'Why when I know Keira already has it?' I speak without thinking.

He smiles coyly. 'Is that what you think?'

'It's what I know. But I can't not try. That's not who I am. I can't not hope that one day you'll think I'm capable of more'

'Why're you so certain Keira has the part?'

'Because, she's beautiful and the best dancer in this room'

'Peyton you're technically the best dancer in this room. Keira has charisma, technically you surpass her abilities when it comes to dance itself'

'But charisma goes a long way'

'Yes, when you have an audience to make fall in love with you'

'And I'm not capable of that'

'I didn't say that'

'You don't need to. Six years at this company tells me that. I'm still no nearer to any success'

'Is that more important to you than dancing? Having your name up in lights?'

I feel myself tense. That's so not it.

'You know that's not it. It's just a symbol that you're being recognised for what you do. Doesn't everybody want that?'

I'm suddenly tired. This conversation is waring. I should be practicing. I only have two hours and forty five minutes before I get chucked out of the studios.

'The part is yours'

I did not just hear that correctly. Couldn't have. My eyes I'm sure have bugged out of their sockets as I look back at him.

'Wh-what?'

'The part. Is yours on the condition that you train with a good friend of mine. Keira will be your understudy. If at two weeks before opening night I'm not convinced that you're best for the part, she'll dance it. You're going to have to work for this'

**Him**

'This is Lucas. Lucas, this is Peyton'

She hesitantly stands up, her eyes downcast as she walks towards us, her feet turned out in true ballerina fashion.

'Peyton Wolf. I've heard so much about you' A simple truth; I've heard about her, read about her, seen her perform and here she is in front of me.

Her long lashes flutter as she warily eyes me, her expression unreadable.

I offer my hand out to her.

She doesn't take it.

My eyes narrow.

'I've not heard anything about you' Is her not so welcoming retort. Well, well, Knight warned me she wasn't exactly a people person but something tells me Miss Priss here is going to be a hell of a lot more trouble than I bargained for.

Knight clears his throat. 'Well no. I suppose you've not. I'm sorry. I've not really told you much of Lucas other than you'll be training with him. Why don't I leave you two to get better acquainted. I'm needed next door'

I tilt my head to the side and try my most intimidating of looks as we're left alone.

She doesn't blink.

I'm terrified...and marginally pissed right now.

'So...Peyton, where're you from-'

'You don't have to ask me the standard questions out of politeness. You don't have to be nice to me. You're not here for that. I know- You're here to criticise and whip me into shape. You're here to train me. Not to be my friend.'

I can feel my eyebrows shoot up.

I'd been informed that she wasn't much of a talker but this girl clearly lacks all interpersonal skills. Where did she get off being such a stuck up bitch?

I'm stunned but manage to dispel my anger into extreme politeness. 'I could be both'

She doesn't seem to hear my answer.

She walks over to the mirrored wall on the far side, extending her leg up high onto the railing that runs across the length of the studio, stretching as she twirls her hair around and blindly pins her tresses up high atop of her head.

I find myself blinking. Her abruptness and not so pleasant attitude has left me utterly stumped.

I'm use to people, well mostly training ballet dancers, tending to be somewhat intimidated by my presence. Especially once I've been at a company for over a month. My name inevitably begins to float down the corridors. My story passed on from ear to ear.

I've yet to be here for longer than forty eight hours; I usually revel in this time. My time of anonymity would quickly come to an end and the students in this building would no longer know how to react around me.

But she, this strange, cold girl before me, she's anything but intimidated. Knight told me she wasn't your average girl, told me she was the most skilful dancer they'd had within these walls in years. Which is why I'd been so confused as to why this was necessary. But now, with her stood across the room from me, stretching her slight legs and arms, I understood. I knew exactly why Knight had called me in and was quickly beginning to see that this wasn't going to be easy.

Her face was blank.

**Week 2**

**Her**

'Well?' I ask. For someone that is meant to be whipping me into so called shape he doesn't do a lot of teaching.

'Well what?'

'Aren't you meant to be telling me how to be better?'

'Do you think you could technically better anything you just did?'

My brow furrows because this isn't the typical way one trains, not at this stage in my career and I'm quickly beginning to question his expertise.

'Well?' He crosses his arms and wavers his arm impatiently.

'No'

'Well, you're just as qualified to judge your own performance and abilities as I am'

'Why are you here then?'

'Maybe it's not about your ability to dance?'

**Him**

She clearly doesn't like where this conversation is headed and is in favour of leaving.

She's sitting on the benches that run across the far wall and freeing her feet from her ballet slippers.

The state of her feet only indicate how hard she works herself.

'Here. Let me' I bend down and assertively take over the task of wrapping her feet efficiently.

Her toes are all bloody but she clearly doesn't do complaining. Which I'd usually find appealing but in this case, I guess I find it scary; her ability to work through pain. Her focus was extraordinary. I knew what it was to be focused. I hadn't got here without it but her blank face, her ability to not convey...anything was almost sadistic.

I can see her discomfort with my helping hands- not because I'm hurting her but because I'm touching her, regardless I don't stop. She was doing it all wrong, I'd seen enough ballerina's injuries to know the best way to deal with this. I couldn't have her loosing her precious feet after all, besides I kind of got off on seeing her squirm.

'What're you doing tonight?' I wondered.

Her eyes jerked up to me, laced with suspicion. So suspicious.

'Nothing' She muttered.

'Do you want to go get a drink?-'

'I can't'

'Oh?' I smirk. I wasn't offended, our first impressions of each other weren't good; the dislike was mutual but as the day had gone on I'd found my dislike turning into curiosity.

'No. I have to sleep and get up early and come back here'

'You know it's healthy to take some time for you every now and again. When was the last time you went out?'

She looks insulted but answers honestly just the same. 'I'm too busy. I don't go out and waste my time drinking in bars'

I raise my brow, half amused, half bewildered because she's dead serious. 'Well, I guess that's a matter of opinion. Sometimes it's nice to relax with friends'

She thinks she doesn't have any friends so it doesn't make any difference to her but she doesn't say so.

'I admire your discipline Peyton but dance, believe me I know, it's not everything'

Her eyes are wide and non understanding as she looks back at me. 'It is to me' She slides her feet into her shoes and gracefully stands, hooking her bag over her shoulder. She doesn't say another word. No goodbye. No have a nice evening. Nothing. And then she's gone.

**Week 3**

**Her**

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

It's my silent mantra as his steely gaze follows my every move.

Everything I did was apparently wrong. He was making corrections that I knew for a fact didn't even exist.

And what was he trying to achieve? Was he just trying to illustrate that he has the power? That he's teacher and I'm student.

'You're meant to be happy in this moment. You're in love and giddy but you look fucking bored' His voice drones over the music again and I miss a step.

I never miss a step.

'Happy Peyton, Happy' He barks it over and over his fingers swooping through the air to draw an invisible smile that has me wanting to slap him.

I force my lips to curve into a smile that feels painfully awkward and I'm sure looks ridiculous because I can't seem to stop my eyes from scowling.

He laughs then, confirming my suspicion that I look utterly stupid.

And then the music stops and his chuckle becomes unbearable and I'm done. I've had it.

**Him **

I shake my head.

For all the hard work she is, I can't help but think that she's also unmistakably sad and that only makes me more intrigued and curious about her life but god damn it why did she have to be so difficult?

'Fuck you'

'Why do you have to be such a bitch?' I was furious now.

'Me? Me? I didn't ask for your help! I didn't fucking choose this. I can do this by myself'

Was it wrong? That every time Miss Prim cursed my dick twitched?

'Really?' I try to stay focused. 'Because right there. What you just did- not good enough'

'You're breathing down my neck- what do you expect?'

'The best. You're the best dancer in this company but that, whatever the hell that just was- half the girls next door could out do that performance'

She freezes before me and I almost smirk gleefully at her sudden loss for words.

If I had to guess as to why, I'd say it's because I just said that she was the best. Something I've slowly gathered that she in no way thinks nor believes and it's killed all the words that had been lingering in her mouth.

'Again' I demand.

'You don't have to speak to me like that' She grumbles. 'I'm not five'

'Yeah? Well stop acting like you are. Again'

She twirled and repeated the sequence, technically perfect this time.

'Again'

'That was perfect' She contends. 'There's no way you can pick a flaw with what I just did'

'Technically no. Perfect. As I said, you're the best dancer in this company and you just danced like her'

'If I'm so fucking wonderful why has Knight got you babysitting me?'

'Because you're the best dancer technically but emotionally you got nothing' I state openly.

Her face grows indignant at that.

'Excuse me?'

'You heard. You dance perfectly but your face is blank'

'It is not'

'Yes it is. You could be the very best Peyton, not just at this company. You can't teach what you have, you have this movement, this rhythm, this thing that is indescribable but your face, you're not living it'

'I am to!' She exclaims. 'Dance is my life'

'I'm not criticising your commitment. I know it's your life' I scratch my head. I don't get why it's so hard for her. I really don't. 'Which makes it so hard to understand why you struggle to show that-'

'I don't need to listen to this crap' She walks away from me. 'Tell Knight to pick Keira. She's fucking him anyway so it won't be long before I'm substitute'

'Is that how it works? You can't stand any one telling you how it is? You run at the first hurdle?' I know I'm taunting her but I'm clueless as how else to deal with her.

'I'm not running'

'Yeah? Well it sure looks that way'

'Lets get something straight here. First of all you don't know me. Second of all, you don't know me. Okay?'

'No. Nor does anyone it would seem. Maybe that's half your problem. You don't speak to anyone unless you have to, from what I can tell you come here, go home and sleep and come back the next day'

'So what?'

'That's really lonely Peyton. You can't be happy'

'What does my happiness have to do with it?'

'A whole lot. This dance, it's about her fighting for her happiness. It's about fighting for a love, about never giving up. You're giving up'

'I'm not'

'No? Well prove me wrong. Put your bag down and get back over here'

I watch her teeth grit together but she relents and I know it may be a small feat but it's a huge deal for her. Peyton Wolf is not one to follow orders but she just did.

**Week 4**

**Her**

'Who is the person you talk to on the phone?'

I look at him suspiciously. I don't appreciate him being curious about me. I'd thought I'd made it clear that I didn't want to discuss me. Ever.

'I know it's not a boyfriend. No. A boyfriend would be too distracting for you, you wouldn't allow it. Besides I don't think a boyfriend would put up with your non stop schedule' He's talking to himself but I hear every word and I want him to stop.

I busy myself with packing up my things and try to helplessly ignore his words. 'And it can't be a friend...you've already admitted you don't have time for them. Maybe it's a sibling?'

I rise to my feet. 'I'm an only child' I all but spit. His eyes widen and I know he's taken aback by my anger. Not that he should be. I thought he was getting use to my outbursts. But this is different and I know he knows it. He sees it. I see it in his expression. I feel like I'm being interrogated even though I know that's not the case. I'm not rational in moments like this. I feel like I'm being tricked into divulging things to him, things that I don't wish to.

I shake my head and turn for the door.

I can feel his eyes on me but I don't look at him again. Won't give him the satisfaction of thinking I care. Because I don't.

**Him**

I watch her walk towards the door, her feet unable to stop their graceful guiding and I see it for a moment. Something made her tick. And she's alive before me. Then the door slams loudly and snaps me from my reviere. She's gone.

She's never on the phone long. I hear her murmur words of _I'll be leaving soon. I'll be there soon. I promise I'll be there. _

Her face is different when she's speaking to whoever it is. That's what struck me most. There's feeling there.

I don't know who it is she's talking to but they might be the answer to freeing the emotion that she has under lock and key deep within her.

And it's suddenly my main priority to find out who her secret caller is.

**Week 5**

**Her**

His hand moves further down and my heart is racing and I'm vaguely aware that this is inappropriate... isn't it?

'You're heart is pounding in your chest' He murmurs in my ear and my eyes are suddenly wide. How does he know that? Can he feel it? Can he hear it? Oh god, kill me now. 'Because he's touching you and you want him. Need him' I relax a little because he's talking me through how she should be feeling. Not me. I swallow thickly, anticipating where his hand is going to go next.

I close my eyes tight. This is okay. This is okay because I'm being her. Not me. But god she might want him but I do to. His finger skims over the fabric of my leotard and I'm sure my legs are shaking as he grazes the place where no other has been. And my body is a traitor as my hips reflexively move to coax his hand harder against me. Right there.

'But then his hands grip your arms tight' I jump, my eyes springing open because his fingers have left where I want them and the burning ache down there turns into pain because it felt so good. And he's so fucking cruel. 'Not tight enough to hurt, but so tight that you know you have no chance of escape' I feel a panic arising in my chest because I don't like how he's holding me. 'And you realise it's not him at all.'

'Lucas' I breathe.

'No' He corrects, he's not being Lucas. 'She's weak. She doesn't fight him' His fingers loosen their grip on me and instead move down to my legs.

Bullshit. She's not a victim. She's strong. She's a fighter. That's what this dance is.

And suddenly I'm in the air.

She's not weak.

He rotates me above his head.

That's not what this is. She's smart. She's biding her time.

He spins me around.

I look up at him, my eyes wide as I stare at the villain he's playing.

I'm fighting him. Our limbs mingle and then recoil.

One moment we're magnets, stuck together and then we're repelling and then I'm on my own and I've won and he's suddenly her true lover.

And as he sweeps me up this time there's no fight, just surrender because she's his completely.

I'm breathing heavily and painfully aware that it's nothing to do with the intricate movements my body just did. No. I'm far too fit for that and he knows it. I'm breathless and...and...moved? I don't know what the hell it is I am but he saw every moment of it playing behind my green irises.

'That. Right there. That was dancing' He looks...emotional?...but I guess I shouldn't be surprised by that; he doesn't find it hard to go there, to get himself to that place, to become one with the character. I've seen it happen several times in the short time I've known him.

'I don't...I wasn't even concentrating properly'

'Exactly. Peyton you need to understand something. You have the techniques, the sequence, everything, you have it down. You're technically perfect, you have the rare luxury that not all dancers have, you can afford to not concentrate. You can afford to just loose yourself. Do you get what I'm saying?'

'You pissed me off'

'I know. I was trying to'

'She's not a victim. She thinks its the one she loves at first thats why she hesitates before fighting'

'Yes. She's a fighter and you are too'

'That...that was sneaky'

He smiles. 'Yes. Yes I guess it was. But now, hopefully you get what I've been trying to get you to see. She's angry in that moment. She's angry and that anger shows in every movement. Every breath'

'I'm not going to be angry with Jared-'

'No. Because he won't be Jared. He'll be the villain and you won't be Peyton. And you'll be able to identify with what I made you just feel'

**Him**

And I felt it too. Sure I don't find it as difficult as she so clearly does but even I admit it makes a hell of a difference as to who your partner is. It's almost always not a perfect match. Her and Jared aren't. But when it's your job you learn to make it work. You fake emotion. You do what you're paid to do. You act. And they'll make it work. Because I'm teaching her how.

But we, just then, we were that rare perfect match- what we did, I felt the spark and she did too. For the first time I watched her really live it.

I shouldn't have let my hand linger where it did though. It was inappropriate and if anyone had been watching it would have been condemned as sexual harassment I'm sure. It wasn't though...was it? I would have defined it as that with anyone else but with her...it's different. It wasn't that. Not at all. And besides it worked. I'd ignited a need in her body, she desired him even though she shouldn't. That's what she needed to understand.

Only she'd said my name.

And I wanted to hear her say it like that again.

A breathy exhale. Sweet and needy; nothing like the version of herself I was confronted with everyday.

Vulnerable and beautiful and I wanted to see her like that again. Because that person was gone now and she was spinning methodically in pirouette after pirouette.

We take one step forward and two steps back.

**Week 6 **

**Her**

I don't know what I'm doing. My stomach is in knots. I don't come to these places. I don't...it's not my scene. I don't drink. I'm not good with people and he knows that and a part of me thinks he's just doing this to torture me.

He wouldn't take no for an answer. He wore me down.

His hand touches my back as he asks me what I want.

My hand delves into my bag for my purse but he stops me and tells me it's on him.

I wonder what his motives are. Why's he doing this? Really?

'Don't look so worried. It's one drink. I'll have you home and in bed by ten' He winks and suddenly I'm more than just anxious...what did he think this is?...Am I, is he...is he like expecting to come back to mine...is he expecting me to...

'Ah there's Brooke. We've been friends for forever. Brooke!'

I can barely keep up. The music. His voice. The bar of people and then there's a pretty brunette standing before us. She's not a ballerina. She's all curves and confidence. She's normal. She's not caught up in the crazy world we associate with.

'Brooke this is Peyton'

'Ah thee famous Peyton' She bows her head and wavers her hand. 'It's an honor to meet you'

'Alright, alright. Do try to act normal, it took enough persuasion for me to get her here without you scaring her off' He mutters.

She thumps her dainty hand into his chest and he grunts dramatically.

'I'm not scary. You're the grinch' She sticks her tongue out childishly and I feel myself dissolving into the background. I wonder if they'd notice if I slowly backed up and-

'What're you drinking blondie?'

My eyes snap back to the bubbly brunette. 'Er I...'

'She was just telling me' Lucas interrupts. His wallets in his hand.

'Just a...a water will be-'

'Out of the question' Brooke exclaims. 'Just get her-'

'No, really, I don't drink'

'Get us both a sea breeze Luke' Brooke seems to not hear my words. Lucas looks at me almost sympathetically in that moment.

'I'll get you a water too' He smiles and then he's gone and I'm alone with this way too smiley girl and I don't want to be here.

'I'm so glad to finally meet you Peyton. Luke has told me all about you'

I can feel my cheeks get hot. 'I'm not sure that's a good thing...'

'Aw look at you, you're adorable. He's got nothing but good things to say about you'

'I hardly believe that'

'Well it's the truth. It's kind of sickening actually'

'I'm sorry' I find myself apologising. For what I'm not entirely sure.

She laughs. 'Don't be. It may be a little sickening for me but I'm also glad, I've not heard him talk about a girl like this for a long time'

'He...it's him really, he's a good teacher, I'm not that easy to be around and he's got a way with teaching me things without me realising'

Her brow furrows and then she's shaking her head with a coy smile. 'I'm not talking about your skills as a ballerina Peyton. I mean sure he thinks you're awesome at that but I meant he likes talking, talking about you' She wriggled her eyebrows and I was on the verge of asking her if she were okay when she widened her eyes exasperatedly. 'God you don't have a clue do you?'

'About what?'

'What I'm talking about'

'We're talking about Lucas'

'Mhm and you' She wavers her hands. 'And...?'

'And...I'm sorry I don't follow'

'And how much he's crushing on you. Jesus are you blind?'

'Crushing on me?'

'God. Yes- look at the boy- he's eye fucking you from the bar'

I followed her pointing finger to where he stood, gazing in our direction, or more specifically- at me. 'Eye fucking' I repeated.

'Mhm'

He raised his brow questioningly and then he was looking away as the bartender handed him our drinks.

'He told me you didn't get out much but I didn't realise he meant you're actually clueless' She chuckled.

I scowled in response. I'm not clueless. Well at least I liked to think I wasn't.

I knew this, coming here was a bad idea. I was not having fun. I was confused. Angry. And feeling ridiculously naive and stupid.

'Everything okay?' He was back and I suddenly didn't want to look at him at all.

'Thank you' I took the two drinks being held out to me. Sea breeze and water as promised 'I...I need to go to the ladies' I didn't hang around long, I skittered past him. Suddenly being beside him felt unbearable.

'Hey Peyton wait up!'

Cheery grabbed my arm and I spilt a bit of my water.

'Come through here'

'What?'

'I know the guy that works here, come back here and we can use the staff toilet and skip the queues'

I glanced toward my destination. Sure enough there was a long wait. But I wanted a long wait. Wanted to be by myself. Anything but return to the awkwardness that surely awaited.

'It's alright-'

'No come on' She was dragging me now and then we went through a door and there was quiet. 'It's just here' She pushed open another door and yanked me through it before locking it behind us. 'Here, put your drinks down and pee'

'Er..' I hesitate. I don't need to go. And even if I did she's in the room with me...I couldn't. 'It's alright I don't...'

'I won't look!' She laughed at me and I didn't like it. 'Oh Peyton' She took my drinks and tossed the water down the sink and I felt ridiculously childlike and was sure that's what she was thinking. 'I've got something that will help you relax, you want to try?'

**Him**

It took so much effort to get her here and I regret my efforts with every fibre of my being.

I'm livid.

My anger is unwarranted. I'm aware of that. Painfully so but yet as I look at her, watch her, I can't help it, I'm angry and I'm not entirely sure why.

I'm angry that Brooke's given her something because she's not drank anything else under my watch but since she's gotten back from the bathroom she's done a total one hundred and eighty. Gone is the uptight girl. She's free and apparently easy.

Because she's dancing with some guy and I know he wants more than just a dance.

'What did you give her?' I'm half aware that I sound like a crazed psychopath as the words blurt from my mouth.

'Why so angry? You said she needs to live a little-'

'A little Brooke, a little. She doesn't even drink for fuck sake and you feed her elicit drugs in the toilets-'

'She's a big girl. She could've said no'

'She's not just anybody Brooke! I've told you, you need to stop doing that shit and don't inflict it on the fucking innocent'

Her eyebrows shoot up at that and my heart is hammering in my chest. I have that feeling of my hand being caught in the cookie jar but I'm at a loss as to why. This seems to be the running theme of the night; me feeling things, things I don't understand.

'I'm sorry' Her doe like eyes are sincere but I've lost interest in being mad at her because Peyton is being dragged away from the floor now toward a wall and she might have lost all her inhibitions but she looks painfully apprehensive all of a sudden.

'For fuck sake' I huff and then I'm pushing myself threw the hum drum of happy party goers and then I'm there at her beck and call and she's shaking her head at this guy and muttering something about she needs to her find her friends and I'm smug. And then I'm pissed because this bozo is determined.

'Come on' His hands have her cornered and I've watched enough.

'Peyton'

The guy reluctantly takes a little step back.

'Lucas' She grins and does a graceful arabesque style leap to me, her hands latching round my neck. She's never looked so pleased to see me and for a moment I forget that I'm pissed. My furrowed brow softens. I'd expected a fight. I'd expected to have to persuade her to leave but apparently she really is disinterested in the guy that's looking at me like I just stole his toy.

I glower at him.

He gets the message loud and clear and backs up.

Yeah dickward. Leave.

'What do you say we get you home?'

'Okay' She nods.

Is that her agreeing? With me? Maybe I should get a stash of whatever Brooke's fed her because she's so compliant.

She's carefree and smiley when we get outside, looking at everything with childlike wonder.

It's raining. Not pouring. And she's not concerned about getting wet and neither am I. The air is muggy and the light drizzle is welcomed.

We reach an empty car park at the bottom of the road and she quickly makes it her stage.

She twirls in front of me and then extends her back leg smoothly up and parallel to the asphalt in an arabesque.

I follow her.

With one hand on her waist and the other sliding beneath her thigh I swoop her up into a présage lift, arms length over my head and she instantly gives up control.

I've seen her trust waver as she dances with Jared. But not with me. Her body instantly relinquishes control.

She laughs and despite the drug induced haze she seems to be wrapped in, her limbs work on their own accord, angled perfectly, her standing leg curling into rest behind her opposite knee.

There's no music.

Only there is. To us. I know she's like me. I can tell when she's not moving, she finds it in everything.

The rain is our beat. The creaking of a trash can against a brick wall is our percussion. The hum of distant car engines our bass.

She slides down me and fuck I don't care how damned finicky and obstinate she is. I don't care how god damned arduous she can be. I can't deny she's fucking hot. Because she really is. Especially in this moment; her thin dress soaked through, her black leotard highlighted beneath...I swallow...her nipples standing to attention.

I'm certain she'd be mortified if she knew.

But she's oblivious. Seemingly to the rain and my wandering eyes.

I turn her. Her hands find my shoulders and I slide her down my torso.

This closeness, it's not unusual, we've danced like this a thousand times now, it's what we do, physical contact is part of the job in our world but this is different. I know it and I'm pretty sure she knows it.

I don't let her down as quickly as I should. I hold her close and torture myself some.

'What're you doing?' She suddenly wonders.

She had to go and speak, I was quite content with the silence, quite content with feeling her pressed up against me.

I let her down.

'Come on. Lets get you home'

**Her**

He loiters in the hallway, watching me with my keys.

I wonder if he wants to come in.

I want him to come in. I won't tell him that. Why do I want him to come in? What is wrong with me?

'Well. I'll see you bright and early' He smiles.

I nod once. 'Thank you...for, for walking me back...you didn't have to'

He shakes his head dismissively. 'No biggy. You going to be alright?' His smile is teasing. He knows. Knows that I took what Brooke offered and I feel guilty and weak all of a sudden. I look down.

'I'm fine'

'Good. Well. Bye then' He turns.

'Luke' It comes out before I even know it and he's looking at me expectantly but I don't say anything, I stare at him blankly instead. God why am I so socially inept.

He's before me again now.

'Peyton?'

I wonder how many times he's said my name because he's looking at me like I'm deaf.

'Sorry' I muster.

'What is it?'

'No-nothing'

**Him**

She says nothing but her eyes say everything. Her eyes say don't go. Her eyes say come in.

And I can't believe I was going to ever leave because everything about her is suddenly painfully inviting.

My legs act for me, apparently concerned that if they don't my mind may convince them to take an alternative route.

I push her back through the door. Her feet do a dance. She can't fucking stop.

It pisses me off.

I want her to fucking stop.

Just for a minute. Just to let go.

Just to forget. Forget dancing.

I push her again- a little more rough this time and she falters, feet staggering. Success.

She looks at me and I watch a mixture of emotions transcend across her pretty face. Shock. Fright. Anger.

I'm not surprised. She always manages to end at anger it doesn't matter what point A is, the path always leads to the only emotion that she can seem to function with.

It's not healthy. I'm aware of that, I doubt that she is.

And yet I welcome Miss Priss' anger over any of her other tenacious traits. Because at least the anger is honesty.

'Don't push me'

I can't help it. The smirk that follows isn't me trying to be a jackass. It's just she's so freaking cute when she pouts like that.

I pin her arms back to the wall.

'Shush'

'Don't tell me to-'

I shut her up the only way I know how. With my mouth.

She's still speaking when my lips cover hers and the vibration of words tickle but my tongue soon silences her.

A gasp of surprise and then she's putty in my hands.

Her hands grip at my wrists, not trying to push away but pull me closer and I oblige and free her of my restraining hold in favour of slipping my hands beneath her damp dress and I'm pissed that she's wearing a leotard, that I not listened when she'd protested earlier and said she had to go home and change. I knew she'd never reappear if I'd have let her do that. But now I was suffering from her wardrobe. I don't care how cute these things looked, I'd been cock blocked more times than I could count by the fucking leotard.

'Stop'

I nuzzle my nose at her neck. 'Come on'

She's teasing. Because there's no way she can stop this right now, right?

'Lucas-'

'Sh-' I coo.

'Enough' Her hands firmly cover mine and push them out from their new favourite place to be and I grunt.

'Seriously? Come on'

'I...I'm sorry...I just...You should probably go...it's late'

Apparently I'd completely miscalculated her self control because I didn't have a fucking clue how she was turning me away right now because she was fucking turned on too. I'm not blind.

She licks her swollen lips and warily looks up at me. Stubborn, stubborn eyes.

I know she's made her mind up.

I'm leaving. Regardless of the serious case of blue balls she's inflicting upon me.

I scrape my hand through my hair and adjust my pants with a heavy exhale. 'Fine..fine'

'It's just...it's late'

I don't need her lame ass excuses. I get the message loud and clear.

I nod. 'Yeah. I'll see you in the morning'

'Mhm'

**Her**

He's off with me this morning.

He's working me hard. Harder than usual.

His tone is curt and he's not watching me, he's watching the mirrored version of myself that dances in the far wall.

I want him to turn around. I want his eyes to follow _me_ around the studio like usual.

I keep fucking up and he keeps sighing exasperatedly under his breath and on any other day I probably would be asking him what his deal is. But on any other day I hadn't made out with him the previous night.

And he can tut and groan all he likes. It's his fault I'm a mess.

Because I can't stop thinking about it.

I can't stop thinking about his hands, how they'd touched me, where they'd touched me. And his lips. His lips. His tongue. God, his tongue. I'd not known that could feel so good. I'd not known it could leave you feeling starved and desperate for more.

I feel like I might die if he doesn't kiss me again. Preferably before the day is out. But he won't because it was a mistake I'm sure. That's why he's so impatient and unsmiling. Because he regrets touching me.

'Was there any point you coming in today?' He barks eventually.

I stop mid step. I'm panting and I can feel a sheen of sweat covering my skin.

'I'm...I'm...' I push the few stray strands of hair that have escaped my bun, back against my head.

'You decided it would be a fucking awesome time to start experimenting with illicit drugs just a few weeks before we go to stage rehearsals' He snaps.

I'm suddenly angry because how dare he? How dare he reprimand me. He's the one that insisted that I need to live a little. He's the one that wouldn't let me not go out, he's the reason I was there.

And yeah I fucked up but it's the first time...ever I think. Because I don't do mistakes, only it felt...surprisingly, kind of nice. Maybe because it was a mistake that I decided; I decided to do the wrong thing, to be rebellious. Sure it was in the spur of the moment but it was my decision just the same. It wasn't a mistake like when you miss a step or fuck up a move. It wasn't a mistake like that and it felt strangely electrifying and he was ruining that feeling.

'Fuck you Lucas'

My severe tone clearly takes him off guard because he doesn't say anything. But he's not looking at me in the mirror anymore. He's looking at _me_ like I so desired. Only I don't want to look at him anymore.

I skulk toward the adjoining changing rooms without another word, letting the door bang shut after me.

**Him**

I blink.

I scrape my hand through my hair.

And then I'm shaking my self from my stupor. 'Hell no' She doesn't get to storm off.

I stalk over to the door she just disappeared through, uncaring to the fact that it's girls only.

She's the only one in there.

There's two classes going on in the other studios that connect to the changing room and the piano thrums through the walls to us, it's cheery tune mocking our not so happy moods.

She's pulled her little skirt off and is rifling through her bag and I never get why my eyes have a habit of averting from any of the girls when they're clad in just their leotards outside of the studio environment. It just feels wrong. Only that's not stopping me right now. Apparently I don't care at all when it comes to Peyton because my stare is greedily soaking in the sight of her bent over.

'You're not meant to be in here' She mutters. She's found her leggings and she steps into one of the leg holes before putting her foot on the bench to pull it up her slender limb.

'Neither are you. You're meant to be back in there'

She repeats the process with the other leg.

'Yeah well seeing as I'm clearly fucking up in there I thought it would be best if I stop wasting your time'

Her hair has come out even more now that she's pulled a hoody over her head.

It's usually so sleekly pulled back against her head but their are wispy curls flying free and I know she must have overslept because there's no way she would have turned up like that if she'd not been in a hurry.

I sigh as she slings her bag over her shoulder.

'Look I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that a minute go'

My apology clearly throws her for a loop because her haphazard movements slow and she's looking at me suddenly.

'You're right. I did encourage you to come out so I can hardly have a go. I just didn't think you'd ever...' I sigh.

'Nor did I' She breathes out heavily and then sinks onto the bench dropping her head to look at the floor. 'I've never... done that and I just... I guess...'

She presses her lips together and I want her to spit out whatever it is she's thinking because she's sharing, at least she's trying to.

I walk the few paces over to where she's sat and join her.

'What?' I urge.

'I feel like such a child sometimes. I've never done anything that anyone else has and I know it's ridiculous that I even care but people look at me like I'm some stupid little girl and I hate it, I just got caught up in that feeling I guess and I wanted to do something that I shouldn't...stupid huh'

'That's not stupid. Not at all' I get it. 'You might feel naive Peyton but in reality the truth is, how I see it anyway, that you were clearly the mature one when you were younger' She's right. She's is different from the norm. And from what I can tell she completely jumped stages that most teenagers go through, her drive and maturity had her uncaring to the stupid things most kids go through. 'Kids all go out, get high, drink underage, try things and do things they're not ready for and it's all because of peer pressure. It's like a sick mind game and you didn't fool for it.' I smile. 'And there's no need for you to feel stupid about that. If anything you should be proud that you had your own mind and didn't allow yourself to be manipulated by what was going on around you'

She's quiet for a minute. 'I never thought of it like that' She murmurs and then she's looking at me, pretty green eyed girl. 'Do you really think that or are you just trying to make me feel better?'

'When in the last six weeks have I attempted to mollycoddle you?'

'That's true'

'Yes' I return the smile she's giving me. 'What do you say we get out of here and go and grab some coffee?'

She bites her lip and I want that lip between my own teeth. I want to devour her warm, sweet, mouth. I want my hands tangled in her hair again.

'I'd like that'

But coffee would have to do for now.

**Week 7**

**Her**

Things are different. And I'm starting to think his friend Brooke was right. About what she said. About him crushing on me. I'd not believed her for a second at first. I mean he looked like he did and I looked like...me. But then he'd kissed me. And then he'd taken me for coffee. Not just once. We'd escaped the studio for a break several times during the remainder of last week.

And we'd talked. About things that weren't dance. Well he'd talked a lot. More than me. I didn't have anything to tell. I had no funny stories.

He told me he'd only started dancing because his Mum had to work long hours and their local dance school was just across the road. She'd never thought he'd actually like it. He told me about his Mum, that they lived somewhere called Tree Hill. He told me that he didn't get along with his dad and that it was his uncle that had bought him up and eventually married his mother. They'd then had his sister. Lily. She was twelve now and apparently wanted to dance but he wouldn't let her. I was surprised at that.

_'What? If you had a sibling would you want them to go through any of the shit you have in this profession?' _

_'No'_ _I'd answered meekly. _

_'__Half the __girls I work with have eating disorders and issues with how they look, or spend all their time dancing and doing nothing but dance...' He'd looked at me meaningfully then. 'I don't want that for her. I want her to live. I want her to be happy'_

He was wrong. For some people dance was like living. It was like breathing.

'What are you thinking about Blondie?'

I jump at his voice and then I'm smiling bashfully because he's laughing at me.

'Sorry I didn't mean to scare you'

'I don't think you're very sorry' He's looking at me with squinting eyes. He keeps looking at me like that and it makes my insides tingle, literally.

'I'm not, not really. You looked cute' He declares and I'm sure if my cheeks weren't red already, they definitely were now.

We're sitting outside and he's just finished eating a sandwich. I've picked at a salad.

My hair blows. I let it down as soon as I got out of the studio. Having it scraped up for the majority of each day always makes my head start to ache.

He pushes it back behind my ear and it makes butterflies flap in my stomach. He's making me nervous. A kind of nervous I've never experienced. That I never even knew existed. It's not like nerves before a show. It's not can't eat or sleep nervous. It's a kind of nervous where I don't want him to stop.

'You look different. With your hair down' He states.

I wrinkle my nose because I know it's gone wild. It inevitably gets damp when I'm training and then as soon as it's set free my natural curls emerge with a vengeance.

'I like it' He answers my expression.

'It's a mess'

He runs his hand through it again, only this time the wind hasn't blown it into my face.

I look at him attentively and he looks right back. I'd never realised quite how blue his eyes are. I keep finding myself captivated by their intensity. I feel like he's somehow bewitching me. Because I can't look away. Or maybe that's not true. Maybe I just don't want to.

**Him**

Her eyes seem a different colour every time I look into them. They're predominantly green. But sometimes, like now, I can see flecks of hazel and gold and it's like they're actually sparkling just for me.

She blinks those long eyelashes and is biting her lip again. She does that a lot. I'm pretty certain it's a nervous habit but god damn it she looks so seductive and innocent all at once and I wonder if she'd be horrified if she knew just how much my dick liked it.

I shift my legs, trying to subtly adjust my suddenly tight pants.

I think I should get up and walk it off.

But that's a fleeting thought because my eyes are back on her lips and I much prefer the latter of my thoughts. Kiss her.

She swallows and her stare averts abruptly to her lap and the sting of her pushing me away last time suddenly ignites in my stomach.

And she's confusing me. Because one minute I think she's into this and is on the same page but the next I'm not so sure what she's thinking.

'Peyton' My hand is still in her hair and I slide it down to hook beneath her chin, gently tilting her head. 'Hey'

'Hi' She smiles but it's skittish.

'I want to kiss you' I feel that being blunt with her may be the only way to find out what it is she's feeling.

Her smile is gone. 'You do?' Her voice is quiet and insecure and I'm none the clearer.

'Yes. It's all I've been wanting to do since I kissed you last week' I frankly answer.

'Okay'

'Okay?' What the fuck does that mean.

'I...I want you to...' She bites on her lip again and I can't help but smirk in jubilation.

'Yeah?' I lean forward and let my thumb ghost across her mouth, before pressing gently on her lower lip to set it free from her teeth. 'You've got to stop doing that. You've no idea how sexy it is' I husk and she inhales sharply and her eyes widen but I devour her surprise. Literally.

I swallow the noise that emits from the back of her throat as I slip my tongue into her mouth.

And then my hand is back in her hair, angling her head better. Our noses brush together as she gets the hint and leans into my hand.

I feel like I've been starved for the past week; like she secretly drugged me with something and that this will never be enough.

Last time we did this I'm aware that I was bold and maybe I'd been too overbearing, maybe I'd frightened her off; She's shy and I try to be gentle and languidly coax her tongue into a sensual dance this time but it's hard not to be insistent when it feels so good.

She hurriedly pulls back, drawing in a breath but I don't even give her a second, with vigor I lock our mouthes back together.

I suck on her bottom lip, gently letting my teeth scrape across the swollen skin there.

Her hand finds my upper arm and I'm more than grateful when she moves closer.

My fingers that aren't tangled in her hair, slide down her side.

Her confidence grows and so does my arousal.

Her tongue snakes around mine and I'm lost. Completely and utterly absorbed by her.

I jerk her closer and her dainty little hand brushes against _me_. I shudder but her touch is brief and as realisation at what her fingers have just unintentionally grazed she reels back, her eyes wide.

I'm panting and feel embarrassingly like a hormone ridden teenager.

'I'm sorry' I breathe.

Her face is flushed and she licks her lips but then she's shaking her head. 'Don't be sorry' She says softly and her lips seem to be moving slower and I want them on mine again already. I want more. I want all of her. 'Maybe, maybe we, we should go somewhere?' She stumbles over her words and looks up at me nervously, like she's unsure of what my response could possibly be.

I almost laugh.

Because how can she not know that I'd go anywhere with her right now.

'Yes' I'm on my feet. I more than like her suggestion 'Mine is nearer, is that okay?'

I sling her bag over my shoulder and hold my hand out to her.

'Yes' She shyly places her little hand in mine and I all but yank her away from our bench because I can't get home soon enough.

**Her**

His apartment is minimal. Tidy unlike mine and I dread to think what he thought when he was there last week, even if it was only a fleeting visit.

His main possessions seem to be books.

'You read?' I hate how small my voice sounds when the words come out.

'A lot' He smiles.

'I wish I had more time, I don't read enough' I let my finger run along the spines of the books that line his shelves.

His hands suddenly encircle my waist and as much as I want him there my body betrays me by tensing.

'Maybe I'll read to you later' He husks. There's a slight stubble on his cheeks and it tickles as he buries his face in my neck.

I lean back into him and then his lips glide over the skin there and it makes my eyes flutter and my limbs relax.

I take a shaky breath as his teeth nip at my flesh and then his tongue darts out.

He's bewitched me. I'll do anything he says. Anything at all. Because he's ignited a crazed hunger within me that's almost unbearably addictive. A thirst that only he can quench.

'Let me show you my bedroom' He hums.

He sounds so masculine and his hands feel so big and powerful around me and it makes me throb down _there._

He guides me through a small hallway to the door at the very end and then we're in his room.

A double bed sits in the middle, dressed in cream sheets. The walls are a pale blue and much like the rest of the apartment it has a fresh yet homely feel.

'This is nice'

'More than nice'

I look up at him over my shoulder and feel my cheeks turning red because he's not talking about the room as I was.

'It's beautiful'

He's talking about me.

He jerks me back against him and I can feel _him_ against my backside, all of _him_ and it both thrills me and terrifies me.

His fingers run up my arms and then skilfully tug my cardigan off. It drops to the floor and then one hand finds it way down my sides, over my waist and then up, up and then it's on my right breast.

I didn't change when we left the studio. I suddenly think I should shower. Put something that isn't a fucking leotard and tights on for a change.

But then his fingers pinch my nipple through the thin material and pleasure convulses through me. How did he do that?

'Oh god' My legs feel weak.

He's peppering my neck with kisses and his other hand pushes the leotard strap off my left shoulder.

There's too many sensations thrumming through me that I struggle to keep up but when air hits my left breast my eyes open in surprise. I'd been so wrapped up in what his fingers and lips were doing that I'd not even felt my arm being urged from the restraints of my leotard.

'Fuck Peyton' He moves around me and I'm thankful his hands don't leave because I'd been relying on his body to hold me up.

Now he's in front of me and I feel self conscious but he's tugging the other strap down and then the material drops to sit around my waist and I'm fully exposed to him.

He stares for a painful moment and I can't read his expression and I'm seconds from running for the door.

But then he seizes my arms and the next second I'm laying flat on my back on his bed.

He tugs his t-shirt over his head and then he's crawling up me, nudging my legs apart with his knees.

The feeling of him, hard against where I ache makes my hips buck.

He groans and his fingers suddenly pin my waist to the bed. 'You can't be doing that sweetheart'

I don't know what he means but an 'I'm sorry' slips from my mouth and he smiles.

'Don't be sorry. Never be sorry' his voice is gravelly and I'd quite happily drown in that sweet sound. 'I'm just not going to last long if you keep that up'

The planes of his chest press flush against me. The feel of skin against skin is tantalising and my hands move into his hair demandingly urging his face to mine.

'Luke' I expel his name through quivering lips. A plea. I don't know what for. I don't know what I need. I want everything. I want him.

'What baby?' He coos, his fingers are tickling up and down my side. _Baby_, I like that. 'What do you want?'

'I...I don't know' I feel stupid and unappealing in that moment because I'm sure he wants some sexy reply. But I don't know how to be that.

I wonder if he can read my thoughts because in the next breath he's telling me it's okay and that he's going to make me feel good.

He presses his lips to my chin and then he's making a slow, tormenting path of wet kisses down my neck that set my body on fire and then his lips are on my breast and he was lying when he said he was going to make me feel good because this isn't just good it's mind blowing.

I'm sure my vision falters.

His other hand moves to my neglected breast and the combination of his attentive finger tips and the feeling of his tongue sucking and swirling are enough to make me moan.

I'm horrified when I realise that the whimpering noise just came from me.

But he appears thrilled when he looks up at me.

'Do you like that baby?'

I can't answer. I can't breathe let alone speak.

He pulls at the tie at my waist and the little wrap over skirt lays against the bed leaving me in the leotard that's bunched at my waist and pale tights that he's eager to rid of.

'Lift up'

I easily arch my hips off the bed and he takes his fucking time, standing at the foot of the bed and slowly pulling the clinging fabrics down my legs, one at a time.

I almost laugh out loud because for being so shy about him seeing me without clothes on, I suddenly couldn't care less. I just want him back on top of me.

My amusement is short lived and my nerves quickly return because once my legs are bare and I'm in nothing but my panties he turns his attention to himself, pushing his sweatpants and boxer briefs down in on one swift motion.

My mouth is dry. I'm sure my eyes have expanded notably and I know I'm staring but I can't seem to look away. He's just so...big. Not that I have a lot to compare to

I push my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

I'm fixated.

And all I can think is how the hell is that going to fit?

'Peyt'

His voice garners my attention and my stare jolts away from his member, my cheeks flaming hot as I look up at him. 'Yes?' I'm sure it's barely audible.

He kneels on the mattress and slithers back up me and I have to stop myself from backing away.

'Everything okay?'

He looks concerned but I say nothing because he's quickly pressed against me again and I don't want to back away at all; I want him right where he is. Closer. I want him to let his weight suffocate me. I want him in me. Because that feels...I swallow. My hips roll against him and he grunts.

I gasp, pressing myself back into the mattress. He told me that wasn't allowed.

He chuckles throatily at my reaction and his hand slips beneath my backside and roughly presses me back up against him. Apparently the rules have changed.

'Urgh' I whimper and he hooks my leg over his muscular thigh.

His hand moves between us and then I feel the tips of his fingers ghosting over the fabric of my panties and my hips jerk.

'Fuck you're wet' His mouth coasts over mine, his tongue flicking out to trail my bottom lip. 'These need to come off' He grunts. 'Like now'

My heart races and never in a million years was I ever planning to tell him but a panic is arising. Deep in my belly, in the back of my throat. And if I'm going to say anything it needs to be said now before it's too late.

'Lucas I've never, I'ver never done this before'

**Him**

'I've never...'

'Never...' I pause and swallow because she can't mean what I think she means. I've misunderstood, surely. 'Never done _this_? as in _this?!_' I try to keep my tone indifferent but I know by the look that's quick to follow on her face that my surprise and befuddlement is clear.

'I know it's weird. I know I'm fucking weird' She exclaims. 'Don't look at me like that'

'I. I'm not looking at you like anything'

'Yes you are. Like I'm completely crazy'

'Peyton' She's trying to move out from underneath me, I instinctively pin her arms, holding her down on the bed. 'Hey. I'm not. I'm surprised sure-'

'And turned off' She wriggles which really doesn't help my predicament because I'm certainly _not_ what she just said. Can't she feel me pressed up against her?

'If anything I'm probably even more turned on right now which isn't helpful as you probably need slow' I close my eyes tightly.

She stills thank god. 'Turned on?'

Her vulnerable tone has my eyes opening. 'God what happened to make you so insecure? You have absolutely no idea how beautiful you are do you?'

Her eyes skitter away from me then.

_Absolutely clueless._

'Look at me' I grab her chin and tilt her head back. 'Seriously beautiful'

Her cheeks blush for perhaps the hundredth time today- so maybe the ice queen can thaw after all. I stop myself from smiling broadly at my silent wonderings.

'Well no one ever looks at me like you are right now' Her voice whispers.

'Mm, I'm sure they don't' I drone sarcastically. 'I think you're just a little oblivious and wrapped up in your own world to notice' _I_ notice. I notice them all the time; Leering at her, stopping in their tracks, trying desperately to catch her eye.

She shakes her head in disagreement. 'It's not like I haven't ever wanted to, it's just you know, I never met anyone and then so much time passes and I guess I just felt like anyone would think I was stupid for being twenty four and still never having... so I guess I'm not looking...I just, I dunno. I know it's weird and you probably want me to leave right now and I've totally killed the mood and-'

'Shut up' She's nonsensical, utterly nonsensical.

'What?'

And fucking cute when she scowls like that. 'Shut up. All I need to know is that you still want to do this. If so, I intend on showing you exactly what you've been missing'

She swallows and I let my eyes travel down her.

She's so small. So delicate. But not in the slightest bit fragile. No, her limbs are strong, resilient and...untouched...I lick my lips.

'Okay'

I'm so zoned out that I barely hear her small voice but then she speaks again, more firmly this time.

'I want to'

I almost groan because she's all mine; she's giving herself to me and I don't know what I've done to deserve to be the lucky bastard that gets her.

'Yeah?'

'It's what I just said isn't it?' She's muttering now and fiddling with the bed sheets at her side.

I'm suddenly apprehensive. I'm worrying about shit that never usually crosses my mind.

Everyone has a first time. I remember mine. Disaster.

I'm not sure I've ever been a girls first before though. Not to my knowledge anyhow.

'It may hurt a bit at first' The words tumble from my lips before I can stop them. But it's all I'm thinking. I don't want to hurt her. Is that inevitible though? God I did not miss being a teenager and having all these worries. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

'I'm not a child Luke, virgin doesn't mean I'm clueless, I get how it works'

I smile. Definitely not a child. 'Believe me. I know that. I just, tell me if you want me to stop okay?'

She nods once, slowly. Her eyes aren't on me anymore, they're watching my hand as it trails down her stomach, around her navel before shadowing the waistband of her panties.

I want to touch her.

I'd been seconds away from doing so when she dropped the big 'V' card on the table.

Now I'm rethinking every touch and movement. Am I going too fast? Has she done anything before?

I lick my lips.

'Has anyone ever touched you?'

'Fingered me?' That blush spreads down her neck.

I smirk. 'Yes, has anyone ever fingered you?'

She bites her lip and shakes her head no and I'm not even aware that I'm groaning until she's grimacing and covering her eyes with her hand. 'This is awful isn't it?-'

'What? No, no' I lay between her legs, abruptly resting my weight completely against her and her gasp hits my lips and I want to trade conversing in favour of slipping my tongue into her mouth but I fear she needs my words to keep her beneath me. 'I'm just finding it hard to control myself right now' I admit. 'I mean fuck Peyton, you're completely innocent and I...' I lick my lips. 'It's just a little overwhelming, in a wonderful way' I hastily add. 'I just don't know what to do with you first' I smile.

She shyly finds my lustful gaze 'Just pretend I'm not any of the things we've just established' She quietly murmurs.

'Why would I do that?' My hand has got a mind of its own because it's coaxing her legs back up around me, pushing her impossibly closer. 'Can you feel how much I want you right now?' I draw in a sharp breath.

'I want you too' She whispers.

A pained sound emits from the back of my throat and I'd happily listen to her say that again and again. And I'm suddenly possessed by need. Feral almost.

I slide my hand that's been hovering restlessly at the waistband of her panties, beneath the material.

Her nails claw at my arm and my vision darts up to ensure this is okay.

Her eyes are on my concealed hand though, her mouth slightly open and she looks so fucking seductive and she's not even trying.

I press my palm against her and then drag my middle finger up and she mewls softly.

I repeat the motion. She's so wet and I want to taste her. But one thing at a time. I think she might combust if I attempt that right now.

Another of my fingers joins in working her and she flings her head back exposing her porcelain neck.

There's a speckled red mark where her shoulder meets her neck. My mark and I wonder if I'm the only person that's left their mark on her.

Her admission of inexperience has released this caveman in me and I feel strangely possessive. Mine.

'Lucas' She expels and I want to hear her say my name over and over, her voice is so fucking sweet like honey.

Her chest is rising and falling, a sheen of sweat coating her silky skin and I lean over her, enjoying how her hard nipples graze my chest and then she's arching herself into me, her breasts mashing against me.

She turns her head to the side and I rest my head just above her ear.

'Luke' It's a plea. She's close and I'm toying with her, skilfully slowing my fingers and prolonging her release.

Her face crumples and her hips jolt against my restraining hands.

'Do you like being fingered baby?' I'm tormenting her, I know but I can't help myself. I want her like this forever, writhing beneath me, begging me, needing me. Just me.

'Y-yes' She's delirious. 'Please...Luke' She implores and I decide she's suffered enough because her desperate pleas have me giving her what she wants and she clenches around my digits and then she's gasping and I angle her face to me and slide my tongue into her warm open mouth, swallowing her moans.

I think I might come apart just watching her.

Her hips slow their frantic movement and soon she's laying there basking in that warm feeling and I have to have her. Now.

I slide my hand from her panties and she murmurs at the loss.

'Just a minute' I placate her with a kiss and then drag the scrap of material down her limp legs.

Her eyes are closed but they open eventually to see me gawping at her.

Her hair is a halo around her and her smile is shy. 'Come back' She breathes and I do. I'll do whatever she wants.

'I need to get a condom' I exhale. I don't want to leave her, even if it's just for a second.

'Are you clean?'

I smirk and kiss the side of her jaw. 'Yes Peyton Wolf, I'm safe'

'Then it's okay. We don't need to...'

'Are you sure?'

'I trust you' And that's big fucking words coming from her.

I'm about to kiss her but her sneaky little hand has found it's way between us and is suddenly on me.

'Fuck' I curse, dropping my head to her neck. Fuck indeed. I know I'm beyond aroused and anything she did right now would only further excite me but her little fucking fingers curling around me...her hands are quickly my new best friends.

'Is, is this okay?' Her voice is fragile and nervous and embarrassed.

'Yes' I manage a breathy laugh. 'More than fucking okay sweetheart'

'Show me'

I cover her hand with mine and guide her encouragingly, not that she needs my mentoring but my coaxing gives her the confidence she needs and I'm soon pushing her fingers away.

She looks anxious and I smile reassuringly. 'As amazing as that feels, I want to come inside you' I boldly tell her.

She's biting her fucking lip again and I nuzzle my nose against hers, hoping to ease her nerves.

'We don't have to do this Peyton' I feel like I need to tell her that.

She answers by spreading her legs further apart and her movement has me pressing against her entrance and we both gasp.

'I want to Luke. I..I want you inside me'

I join our lips. I think I'm as nervous as her right now and distracting both of us seems like the best plan. We kiss, slow and languid.

But it's not enough. Of course it's not and that fucking mewling sound that she keeps making has become my new favourite noise. I can't help it, I rock against her.

She gasps and I look into her eyes. I've barely entered her and I have to fight the urge to thrust my hips forward into her enticing heat. Slow. Slow. Slow. It's my mantra.

It's as though she can read my mind. 'It's okay' She nods.

I try and be gentle but my attentive movements are suddenly abandoned when I reach a certain point.

She hisses.

'Oh god' I groan. Tight. Tight warmth. 'Fuck'

'What, what's wrong?' She gasps.

I nuzzle my nose into her neck, a wane smile at my lips. Silly girl.

'Nothing. Nothings wrong' I exhale heavily 'You...you're so tight...feel fucking amazing' I crane my head to look at her 'Are you alright?'

My arms are shaking with the shear amount of control and focus it's taking to keep still.

Her thighs have clenched around me 'Uhuh' I'm not sure I believe her because I heard the muffled hissing noise that she made. 'I think so' She quietly amends her answer under my demanding stare.

I stay perfectly still.

'Yeah?' I rub my thumb over her bottom lip.

She nods, inadvertently brushing our noses together and pecks my lips. 'I'm okay'

I slowly allow myself to move. I don't tear my eyes away from her face. I watch her carefully. I try to read her.

She rolls her hips to match my movement and we both whimper and I hope to god this feels as good for her as it does me. Because it seems fucking cruel for me to be in ecstasy if she's in discomfort.

'I'm okay Luke' It's as if she can read my thoughts again. 'I promise' A small smile graces her lips. 'More than okay' She admits and it's the assurance I need.

I stroke my hand over the top of her leg before gently manoeuvring it, watching her face as I lift it higher around my waist. She's of course flexible and it moves easily and I don't need to look to know that she's pointing her toes.

'Urgh' I grunt as she arches her back, her mouth open. Beautiful, beautiful creature. And she doesn't even know how sexy she is.

She moves her other leg up and around my waist and locks her feet behind my back and I can't help it. I snap. I can't handle this slow dance we're playing, so I rock back and then I'm inside her again, only it's deeper this time and the moan I'm rewarded with does nothing but spur me on.

My thrusts become frantic. My right hand is clasped in hers and our breaths mingle.

And I'm close. And I want her to come. Am determined that she will.

'Lucas' She breathes out my name and I let my hand find that place between her legs, urging her to find her release.

'Come with me baby' My words are ultimately would have her falling over the edge and it's her clenching walls and whimpering of my name that have me reaching my own release. 'Fuck' I groan into her neck and ride out the waves of bliss.

'Oh my god' She's panting and I can feel her heart racing against mine and I want her again already and I don't know how that's possible but as I look at her adoringly I know that my desire for her is only natural because she's fucking beautiful.

I stay on top of her until she exhales my name and I know I'm suffocating her so I gently shift off of her.

She rolls onto her stomach and is looking at me so fucking sweet and innocent only she's never been sweet and I've just taken her innocence.

'Are you okay?' I wonder.

She smiles demurely. 'Yes. Can we do that again?'

I laugh. I've created a monster. 'As many times as you want. But you're going to have to give me a minute'

I let my eyes wander down her bare back and her hands reach for the sheet. I hate those hands as she hides her perfect derriere and smooth, creamy skin beneath the white bed linen.

I scowl as she cocoons herself within it, just her head showing.

'If you want to do that again you're going to have to come out of there' I tease but I'm serious. She needs to come out of there. Now.

She looks at me all shyly. 'I'm cold'

I'm sure that's got nothing to do with it. I'm sure she's just too self conscious and I'm determined to change that.

'Well get over here. I'll keep you warm' I don't wait for her to do as I suggest, instead I let my fingers crawl beneath the shield of sheets and tug her until her back is touching the warm flesh of my chest.

I latch my chin over her shoulder. 'Better?'

She's rigid against me but at the sound of my voice her muscles relax a little.

'Yes' She mutters meekly.

I can't stop my hands, they've got a mind of their own and they want to map out every part of her and burn it to memory and I intend to spend the rest of the day doing so.

**Week 8**

**Her**

'Who was that? On the phone?'

He's asked me this question before but it's different this time. He's asking me but it's not demanding or interfering.

'You don't have to tell me if you really don't want to-'

I cut off his sudden words because apparently I don't care if he knows anymore. 'My Mum'

'Oh...'

'She's not exactly well, she needs a lot of help. She lives in a home actually.'

'Oh'

'She was in a car crash when I was nine' Now I've started I can't stop. 'She was picking me up from school'

His hand finds mine and and his thumb runs over my knuckles. It feels nice. It's soothing.

'She hit her head and suffered life changing brain damage'

'God Peyton, I'm so sorry'

'My dad couldn't handle it...he started drinking and then one day he just..' I shrug. 'He just upped and left' I can feel a lump in the back of my throat. I can't remember the last time I cried. Not in a long time. Not over him, he didn't deserve my tears. I don't do crying. 'I was eleven by that point and I...I tried really hard to look after her but it was hard...she, she's like I child...she doesn't understand danger and then one day she accidentally set fire to the house when I was asleep. We were fine, thanks to our neighbour but it was decided that I couldn't look after her by myself and she ended up having to be put in a home' I bit the inside of my cheek.

'What happened to you?' He blurts.

'I got to go into foster care' I laughed sadly. 'That was fun'

'Peyton' He breathes out and it's sympathetic and sweet and his other arm is around me now.

'She always loved me dancing. I hated it. I always made a fuss about going but then...then when she was gone...not gone...after the accident I mean, I guess it made me feel close to her somehow. She still likes me dancing' I smile fondly because it still makes her happy. The walls of her room are covered with photos of me dancing. 'I worked really hard to get into Dance school and get a scholarship and it kept me out of my foster home which was a bonus' My lips purse together. My nose prickles and then a tear races down my cheek. 'I'm sorry'

'No, don't be sorry' He shakes his head and brushes the tear away. 'Come here' He swaddles me in his arms. 'I wish I could have saved you from all of that' He breathes into my hair.

And all I can think is he kind of is.

**Him**

I'd had no idea.

Not at all.

She'd suffered so much. Been through so much. Dealt with things a kid never should and then I'm telling her things I've not spoken about to anyone.

'I was a principal...I had what I'd always wanted, what I'd dreamed of and then I...I got injured on opening night...' I expel. It's not the same. Not the same at all as what she's just shared with me. But it's honesty and that's what we're doing here. 'I didn't cope well with that.. I was dark for a long time and it was only at the end of last year that I stepped foot in this building again and you...watching you dance...I...You've bought me back to life Peyton'

She smiles and leans into me and with every passing day it feels like I'm living just to see that sweet, sweet smile. Maybe she was sweetness after all.

**Week 9**

**Her **

He keeps looking at me. Looking at me like he wants to tear my clothes off. And that's not an assumption. I know that's what he's thinking. I've learnt over the last few weeks what that look means. And it makes the muscles in my lower abdomen contract in anticipation. Because every time we've had sex he's made me feel things I've never felt before. He's done things to me that no one ever has before.

I've spent forever feeling shameful over my lack of experience but he seems nothing but smug about it. He likes to remind me that he's the only one that I've been with, not in a cruel way, in a possessive caveman way that makes my insides flutter and in moments like that I'm glad that I waited for so long because it just feels right. And I think he likes being my mentor in the art of sex because I actually listen intently and do everything he says, something that I wasn't at all willing to do when I first met him.

But I'll do anything he wants. Anything at all because the way he looks at me when we're together is like I'm the only girl in the world that matters.

'That was beautiful' He breathes.

I inhale. Exhale. Trying to get sufficient air into my lungs to regulate my breathing but he's not helping my task because that look...

'Shall I do it again?' I lean back against the bar that runs along the mirrored wall.

He doesn't answer. He's right in front of me now.

Our sessions seem to be becoming shorter and shorter by the day and I'm sure Knight would not approve of the relationship we've initiated. It's not professional. But Lucas doesn't seem the least bit concerned about that. I wonder if it's even crossed his mind. But his carefree attitude is rubbing off on me. And it's not like this set up is forever. He won't be working with me soon. We've only got a few weeks left before opening night. That thought makes me anxious. Not because of the performance. He's taught me not to be nervous about that and it seems so irrelevant now. I'm nervous because I don't know what his plans are. Is he staying here? Has he been offered a permanent position here? Will he be teaching? Or will he leave? Loosing him fills me with dread. I don't want to give up whatever it is we are. And that seems absurd to me because how can I be fretting over loosing something I've survived without for twenty four years?

He's still not answered me.

'Again?' I repeat, meeting his intense stare.

'Why ask that when you know what I want you to do right now?'

'Luke we're in the studio. We can't. Not here' I'm not sure he can hear my words, they're barely audible because my mouth is dry and fuck that look...

'It's after hours. No one is here. Yes we can' His hands find my hips and I gasp as he jerks me to him.

'I'm gross' I weakly protest. My hair is damp, I'm all sweaty but I'm quickly finding that factor irrelevant.

'You're not. You're fucking sexy'

_Sexy_. He says I'm that a lot and my dismissal is turning into acceptance because its hard not to believe him when his hands paw at me like he might die if he doesn't make me his. That doesn't mean my cheeks have stopped blushing profusely. I'm sure there as red as ever right now.

His palm settles over my racing heart and his lips curl upward. 'Do I make it do that?'

His lofty smirk doesn't bother me. I find it impossibly cute at how proud he is.

'You know you do' I indulge him and it's the simple truth anyway.

'Mm' He turns me around and I'm suddenly facing the mirror. 'Look at you' His strong arms are around my waist and I like how they look there. I know he could lift me up with one hand and twirl me above his head if he wanted and that physical strength stirs something inside of me. 'Look at how beautiful you are' He's humming in my ear and I find his eyes in the mirror.

He's the beautiful one with his perfectly chiselled face.

'Not me, you' He demands.

I roll my eyes but obediently let my stare find my own reflection.

I don't see what he sees. I've always felt just kind of...plain I suppose. My body is strong but my limbs are too slender, almost childlike. And my chest isn't exactly feminine, I feel like a gangly pre adolescent half the time. But he clearly doesn't think so because I can feel his arousal probing at me from behind. He's insatiable. Not that I can talk. I think I am too.

I bite my lip, something I've only recently become aware that I do. Because he makes the sound that he's making now.

'Fuck Peyton' He growls and he thrusts against me, roughly pushing me forward and my hands shoot out and grasp the rail in front of me. 'Sorry'

I'm not. I like it when he manhandles me. When he wants me so bad that he can't control his body's reaction. I tilt my face, craning my neck so my nose rubs the underside of his chin and then he shifts his own head and captures my lips greedily. And he says I've become a little vixen when it comes to kissing. I can't get enough. My lip is between his teeth and he nips at it and then he's sucking and then his tongue is battling mine for control.

I roll my hips back against him and he grunts into my mouth and then his hand is yanking my skirt up and trying futilely to get beneath my leotard and down my tights.

'Luke' I breathe and my hand covers his and he's about to pout because he thinks I'm going to stop this but I'm past caring about where we are and the possibility of being caught. I tug on the material that his fingers are battling to get beneath and then the poppers come apart, the material hanging loose.

He grins.

'I thought I'd wear something a little more accessible today' I whisper. I've been feeling sorry for him, constantly trying to get me out of my ballet get up. He's declared on more than one occasion that he doesn't agree with leotards.

'Fuck. You should wear this all the time. Why don't they all have these?' He's clearly baffled by the fastening and I laugh at him.

'Because ballet dancers don't play, they work hard' I joke.

'Well this ballet dancer is about to be played. Hard' He drawls in that sultry voice that has me whimpering.

His hand easily gets beneath my tights now and I lean forward, my palms slipping on the bar as his finger shifts my panties out of the way.

'Fuck Luke' Apparently I'm picking up his cussing habit. I throw my head back and one of my hands leaves the rail, blindly finding his hair as he assaults my neck.

I catch his eye in the mirror and I have to admit, I may be reluctant to believe his profession that I'm sexy but we look hot together like this.

Our reflection clearly affects him too; his hand presses hard against me, literally causing my feet to rise off of the floor. I gasp and then his wonderfully deft fingers are gone and I want them back god damn it and my feet aren't so graceful as my ballet slippers find the floor again.

He tugs my tights and panties down just far enough and then I can feel him bare against me and I have no clue when he sneakily got his pants down and we've never done it like this before. With him behind.

He pushes into me and my mouth drops open with a whimper because I wasn't quite expecting it. He usually spends more time making me come before we do this, be it with his fingers or his clever, clever mouth, so much so that I'm usually completely ready for him. This is different. Not painful, maybe a little uncomfortable for a second. My walls stir as he stretches them and fills me completely, touching places I didn't even know existed.

I blink. My hands clench around the rail in front of me and he pulls my hair back over my shoulder.

His thumb makes soothing circles on my hip and he kisses the back of my neck before purring in my ear.

'I couldn't wait'

'I noticed' I breathe. I've recovered from his abrupt intrusion and his presence within me has now provoked a hankering throbbing that compels me to grind myself against him and alleviate the almost unbearable longing.

I feel him smile into my neck and the thumb that was consoling is now digging into my hip bone as he guides me almost primitively.

And he's not been this rough before and it's overwhelming in the best possible way.

My face is so close to the mirror, my breath misting over the polished surface and obscuring my reflection which I'm thankful for. I'm sure there's nothing attractive about my face right now, nor the way I'm bent over.

I might not be able to see my own figure but I can still make out his reflection. His hand smooths over my backside as he watches intently where we're joined.

I'm sure if this situation were to be presented to me I'd be completely mortified but right now, in the moment, the sound of his skin against mine, the little approving groans he keeps making, everything, it's nothing but erotic and I want him to fall apart.

I want him to come because of me.

He catches my eye and suddenly his arm is around me, hauling me up. I let go of the bar and my hand slaps against the fogged up mirror instead. And the way he's positioned me has my vision blurring.

'Oh my god' I shudder. Can you die from pleasure? I wonder.

A hand is groping at my covered chest, a nipple is tweaked through the material and I squeal. I'm sure he's trying to kill me.

And then he's pressing into me harder and hitting a spot that sends flashes of immense pleasure spiralling through me with every thrust.

And then he's coming and the sensation makes me shiver and every part of me tingles and I'm falling and I want to stay here, like this, with him, forever.

**Him**

She's sighing my name nonsensically and I'd laugh had I the energy.

I'm still inside her and she's trembling to the point that I'm actually getting worried. 'Peyt' I stroke my hand over the back of her damp leotard and her forehead slowly retracts from where she'd pressed it up against the mirror and then it lolls back against me. 'You okay?' I push her sticky hair back from her flushed face.

'Mm' She murmurs, her eyes blinking and I decide we should sit down. I reluctantly pull away from her body and tug my pants up before attending to her. She's incapable of doing anything in her sated state. My towel is abandoned on the floor nearby and I kneel before her to clean up what I've left running down her leg. Her hands find my shoulders and I help her in pulling her underwear and tights up and then diligently refasten the poppers of her leotard before pulling her down to straddle my lap.

She curls herself around me, burying her head in my neck.

'Are you alright?'

'I'm wonderful' Her lips tickle as she utters throatily against my skin. I rub her back.

'Are you sure? You're shaking' Albeit it's subsided significantly now I'm still not convinced that she's alright.

'I think I nearly just died by overload of pleasure' She mutters. I stifle a laugh. 'Can you die from that?'

'I think you're safe' I croon.

'I don't think I can walk ever again, let alone dance'

'I'm sorry' My fingers run idly up and down her arms. I was rough. 'Did I hurt you?' Panic forms uncomfortably in my chest.

'No' Her head rises and she smiles. 'I ache in the best possible way'

She's beautiful.

I tell her.

'You're so beautiful'

She predictably looks down, her hand lightly shoving at my shoulder.

'You are' I grip her chin and force her to look at me. 'So, so beautiful'

'Lucas' She whines softly.

'Especially when you're coming'

'Oh my god. Stop it'

I laugh. 'I'm sorry, it's just too easy to make you blush. I can't help it'

'Well help it' She looks down and pouts but that smile soon finds its way back to her lips.

'That looks good on you'

'What?'

'That smile'

She bites her lip and it doesn't matter how many fucking times she does it, it still has the same affect on me. 'Peyton'

She laughs and that smile turns into a mischievous grin that has me pinching her sides.

She shrieks, her hands covering mine with a 'Stop!'

I do.

And then she's looking at me 'It feels good' She admits. And I know she's referring to her frequent smiling face.

And I can't help but hope I'm the reason for it.

**Week 10**

**Her **

I don't really know what I was thinking letting him come here. I have no clue how she will react to him. She only likes certain people. People that she's use to and the last thing I want to do is cause her any unnecessary upset.

She'd thrown a vase at me a couple of months back, gashed my arm right open and I'd had that sodding audition the next day.

It wasn't her fault though. And she'd not even been aiming for me; she'd been aiming for the new nurse that had walked into her room. I'd just tried to stop the poor woman from being hurt and managed to get myself wounded in the process which had only distressed my Mum even more.

Because despite her mental disabilities I was still her favourite person.

Her behaviour was childlike most of the time. Demanding and unreasonable. She'd call me up at ridiculous hours saying she needed me and if I couldn't come rushing to her beck and call she'd yell that she hated me over and over.

And it didn't matter that I knew she didn't mean it at all.

It still made a lump form in the back of my throat every single time.

She didn't hate me though. Far from it. She hoarded photos of me, watched videos of me on a loop.

Her favourites were of me dancing. Its the only thing that could calm her down when she got hysterical.

'If she starts yelling just leave the room okay? Because she's just frightened and it'll just be-'

'Peyton' He stops walking and pulls me to the side of the corridor, his hands grasping mine. 'It's okay' Apparently I wasn't doing a very good job of keeping my nerves under wraps. 'You told me already. Any sign that she's not happy and I'll get out of there. Okay?'

I nod and then I'm apologising because he probably thinks I'm a right head case.

He kisses me and it's just lips to lips and I don't think he's ever kissed me like that before. It's affection. And sweet. And has no intention of being anything but that.

'Besides, if she's anything like you I'm sure I can win her round'

**Him**

'Hi Mum'

There are lots of pictures on the wall and my eyes linger on the ones that are clearly from before the accident. When they'd been a normal family. They all look so happy. And it was cruelly taken away. She didn't deserve it. None of it.

I stand back and watch them.

She's her mother's daughter, that's for certain.

They have the same eyes, same chin.

Her hair is plaited and hangs over one shoulder and I wouldn't know that she has any disabilities were I to pass her on the street but her mental incapacities soon become apparent.

She's pleased to see Peyton and hugs her with unbridled enthusiasm.

She's jabbering about a mile a minute and telling her everything. What she ate this morning. How she called Peyton seven times and why didn't she answer? But Peyton doesn't reply. Can't because the woman is still speaking.

'I watched my Peyton film today. Three times. You're so beautiful. You're so- Who is he?'

'Mum' Peyton calmly kneels on the floor and she's different with this woman. She's almost maternal. Which is ironic given their relationship. 'This is my friend. I wanted you to meet him' She's holding her mother's hand. 'Mum this is Lucas, Luke this my Mum, Ellie' She glances at me nervously as Ellie looks at me with trepidation.

'Hi Ellie' I acknowledge. 'It's lovely to meet you' I take a step further into the room but Peyton's alarmed expression has me holding back.

Ellie continues to stare at me but doesn't address my greeting.

'Friend' She echos Peyton's explanation.

'Yes'

'He's a boy'

'Yes' Peyton confirms.

'You're a girl'

'Yes Mum'

Her patience and straight face is endearing and the reasoning behind her difficulty in showing her emotions is suddenly clear to me. She's learnt to wear a mask and be strong.

'He's a boy and you're a girl'

'Yes Mum'

Ellie's green eyes leave me finally and she looks at her daughter. ''You love him. You're going to get married and have a baby'

I smile but Peyton looks flustered by her Mother's words.

'Er no'

'That's what happens' Ellie argues.

'Sometimes. Not always' Peyton softly replies. 'Lucas dances Mum'

Ellie's eyes are quickly back on me and I edge further into the room because she's looking at me in awe not horror and I'm hoping that's a good sign.

'Dances'

'Yes, he's wonderful. He's been teaching me'

I warily sit down in the vacant chair beside her.

'Are you having sex?'

'Oh god' Peyton exhales.

'What?' Ellie wonders and her expression is confusion and innocence.

'You can't just say that Mum'

'Why? Boys and girls have sex Peyton'

'I know Mum.

'You're a girl and he's a boy. Have you had sex?'

'Yes. We have' I'm the one that answers this time. I feel like this line of inquiry isn't going away so why evade the answer?

'See Peyton. Lucas knows that you've had sex'

Peyton looks at me and I grin and wink at her and her riled expression softens and then she smiles bashfully.

'You should get married' Ellie persists.

'Okay' Peyton rolls her eyes at me. 'We'll think about it Mum' She mouthes a sorry at me but I'm not sorry.

'I'll get to come won't I?'

'You'll be the first person we invite Ellie' I indulge her.

She smiles at me and its ecstatic.

'Okay enough on our non-existent marriage. I've got a show coming up soon Mum' Peyton eagerly changes the subject.

And she doesn't do talking about herself but for the next few minutes she goes into depth describing the approaching show. She talks about how beautiful she's going to look and its not her being conceited, it's the opposite, it's her giving her mother something precious and Ellie's eyes sparkle with excitement. She talks of the storyline and the movements and how she'll be the star of the show and her mother literally claps her hands in delight.

'And Lucas will dance too?'

'No. He's been helping me'

'Your daughter is an exquisite dancer Ellie'

'She is. She is the best. She's a star. Do you want to see my Peyton film?-'

'Lucas doesn't want to-'

'I'd love to see your Peyton film Ellie' I cut off.

'Put it on Peyton. Put it on' Ellie chants and Peyton reluctantly stands up and moves to the television in the corner.

'You said you've already watched it today'

'Three times' Ellie confirms.

'So do we really need to-'

'Lucas needs to watch it. He has to'

'I have to' I agree. She scowls at me over her shoulder as she returns with a remote in hand. She's about to squat back down on the floor but I wrap my around her waist and pull her down to sit on my lap.

Peyton glances at Ellie but the older woman isn't concerned with her daughter sitting astride me. She's oblivious. Instead she's pointing at the remote and hurrying Peyton in playing the film.

'Okay. Okay' She begrudgingly presses the play button and suddenly a little girl with blonde curls fills the screen.

Peyton looks down and I'm quick to recognise why she doesn't want to watch the footage. Because it's them before. Well initially anyway.

Her father, her mother and her. The three of them and it seemed idyllic.

The woman beside me is a different person to the one on the screen. They share the same features but that's where the similarities end. Because the documented version is intelligent, kind and loving. She's a mother through and through.

Peyton gradually becomes older. Her fair locks grow darker and her cherub cheeks disappear and so does Ellie and her father. The footage is soon just recordings from dance recitals and shows.

'I'm sorry. It goes on a bit' Peyton murmurs quietly.

'I'm enjoying it' I breathe into her ear. A simple truth. 'You were a cute kid. You still are pretty cute'

She smiles.

'I had it put together for her a while back. I didn't realise I'd have to watch myself a million times though' She mutters.

I instinctively know why she had it put together. A small part of her had hoped it might spark some memory of before but it hasn't. It won't.

I grasp her hand in mine and squeeze it because I don't know what to say and her mother is jabbering to the side of us about what her favourite coloured tutu is that Peyton's worn.

And I'm suddenly struck by my need to do anything for this woman because I'd do anything for her daughter.

And I'm strangely not scared by that unfamiliar feeling.

I'm invigorated. I've never felt so alive. And I don't want it to ever go away.

**Week 11**

**Her**

It's opening night.

I'm in costume, head to toe.

White feathers are stitched across my front along with intricate beading that matches the head piece that is interweaved into my hair.

I want to see him. I want him to see me like this. He's not seen me in full costume yet.

I walk down the corridor of dressing rooms. There's an exciting buzz in the air and it takes me twice the amount of time to get anywhere because fellow dancers keep talking to me. Wishing me luck. Telling me I'm beautiful. Some are sincere. Some are anything but.

I finally make it out of the cramped quarters and I'm standing in the wings of the stage.

It's dark. But there's a hum of noise coming from the stands where audience members are being seated.

The orchestra below is setting up and the odd instrument sings out as its owner warms up its strings or mouth piece..

And my nerves start to grow.

I don't linger.

I hastily make my way down the steps and I'm where I hope he is.

The teachers usually congregate in some of the rooms down here and sure enough I can hear his enticing voice as I approach the end room.

The door is open and I hold back.

It's quickly apparent that he's talking to Knight and my palms begin to sweat because I'm the subject of their conversation.

They're having a drink and I see the glint of their glasses clanking together in cheers.

'Thanks' Lucas murmurs and he sounds different to me...I don't know how.

'You certainly did what I set out for you to do'

'She's worked hard'

'Oh come now Lucas, there's always truth to rumours. And they've been flying around concerning you and our little protege.'

'I did what you asked'

'Yes you did, better than I could have ever imagined. I didn't think it possible. Who knew that giving our frigid bird a thoroughly good fucking would actually solve everything'

And its all I can hear. I don't hear anything but that.

Because was it all just pretend? All just a game?

I'm suffocating in this outfit and gone is my desire for him to see me.

I don't want to be seen.

I want to be swallowed up by the floor and never be found.

**Him**

I catch her hovering in the dim lit doorway and my stomach turns. I can tell by the way she's looking at me that she's definitely not heard all of this conversation. No. She's clearly come to the wrong conclusion.

'Peyton' I breathe out.

She shakes her head and then she's scarpering.

He laughs.

He actually fucking laughs.

And I loose it.

How dare he?

And then my fist is in his face and fuck I don't think I've hit anyone since I was a stupid teenager and it hurts.

My eyes water. I wonder if I've broke my fingers. But then I'm looking at him and my pain is forgotten because he's sprawled on the floor, blood trailing from his nose and satisfaction is oh so sweet.

'It's not fucking like that. Not at all. I fucking love her you idiot' I bark 'I'm not sleeping with her to make her a better fucking dancer. If you dare talk about her like that again I swear...' I shake my head and then I'm done. I can't look at his pathetic form for a moment longer. I just need to find her. To put right whatever deluded thoughts are racing through her. Because she's got it wrong. She's got it so wrong and I know now...what I just said out loud... it was the truth. I lover her. I'm in love with her.

**Her **

I feel like I'm going to be sick.

How could I have been so stupid?

So, so stupid. I made it so easy for him. I was like his little lap dog.

I ignore everyone that says my name, I don't stop not until I'm in my dressing room but the door opens just moments after I close it.

'Peyton'

'Get out' I hate that the flutter of butterflies is gone, instead his voice makes me feel nauseous. I don't want to look at him.

'Not until you listen to me'

'There's nothing to say!' I'm out of control. The words spurt from my mouth, loud and aggressive and I don't care who hears.

He grabs my arms.

I struggle. I don't want him to see the tears in my eyes. Fuck. My make up is going to be a mess.

I inhale sharply.

'Look at me' He shakes me when I don't.

I do, but am sure to plaster my most scathing look on on my face first. 'I get it' I hiss. 'You don't have to ply me with apologies. I get it. You've had your fun. I-'

'Will you just shut up. Whatever you're thinking, none of it is true. Okay? We both know that I was here to help you try and open up, to break through that hard exterior and get you to show some emotion but god damn it Peyton it was never a game. If I'd wanted a fucking laugh you're the last person I would've...' He trails off. 'I didn't mean that the way...'

'It's fine. I'm dull. I know. But you really got me to loosen up didn't you. Well fucking done'

'You're not dull. You're fucking difficult is what you are. You're so fucking stubborn' He sighs and it's aggravation and I see him glance at the clock above my head. I should've been out of that door three minutes ago, I don't need to look at the clock to know that. 'Knight is a dick. It was never my intention to get you into bed. Never. It just...it happened and it wasn't planned, I'd never...I didn't plan any of this. If it were a game I wouldn't be going home with you after tonight's performance. I wouldn't be coming with you to see your mother tomorrow. I just fucking wouldn't...can you just try, try to trust me'

'I'm going to fuck up out there' I try to ignore his riled rant. I feel all shaky and I haven't done any of the stupid fucking rituals I usually go through before a performance. I feel like I'm about to be thrown to the sharks. And my heart aches because I want so badly to believe him.

'No you're not' His voice is so defiant, so certain and cuts through the space between us, shocking my trembling form. 'You're going to go and dance the best you've ever danced. You're going to go and show the world who Peyton Wolf is. You're going to be wonderful. And I'm going to be in the wings. And as soon as you do your last curtain call you're going to come to me and I'm going to tell you I love you because I do. I love you'

Did he just say...

His mouth is on mine and his tongue ghosts over my lips and his hand soothes over my face and as quick as they were there they're gone and my lipstick is smeared over his upper lip.

'Go'

**Him**

She goes and I take a moment to gather myself.

And I'm scared she doubts my words. That she thinks I've just been using her and that makes me feel sick.

She's insecure enough as it is.

I can only hope she's brave enough to take a leap of faith because I just put everything on the line and told her how I feel.

And now that I've had her I don't know that I could survive without her.

I shake myself from my internal monologue. I'm going to miss the beginning if I don't hurry.

The corridor is the polar opposite of what it was just minutes ago. Abandoned and eerily quite.

It's started. The music is soft, dream like.

I can see her in the wings, she's biting her fucking lip as per usual and she better not fucking do that on stage and as if she can hear my thoughts she quickly sets it free.

She glances over her shoulder and she looks at me for a beat.

I nod. She can do this. She could do it in her sleep.

And then she's gone.

And I move to where she was just stood. And watch her.

And I know after she's done her first sequence that she's done it. She's made it and no one should ever have doubted her. Not Knight, not me.

She's beautiful and her face is living every moment and every ballet company would be stupid not to want her as their Principal after this. They're all going to be begging her. The prima ballerina, Peyton Wolf.

I hate that her worthless father left her, he threw her to the dogs and he's the reason she's suffered. He could have stayed, could have been her support system but he didn't. He jumped ship. But even though he abandoned her and her mother, he did gave her something, he gave her his fight and his surname and its fitting. Because she's been a lone wolf for sometime, she's a part of something big here and yet she's excluded herself socially from almost everyone but now as she dances across the stage in just seconds she's become the leader of the pack.

All eyes are on her. No one else.

And pride thrums through me. And all it took was her bravery, to let that wall down.

And she's touching peoples souls, you can see it on their faces as you look out at the audience. Their awe and adoration.

I don't see her during the interval. It's manic with costume changes and set alterations.

And before I know it the stage is alive again and it goes so fast. Too fast.

And then it's over.

And she's curtsying and every one is on their feet and flowers are being thrown at her and a tear arises in my eye and I blink it away.

And as soon as those curtains come down for the final time she's bombarded with fellow company members and she's smiling and I expect them to steal her away from me but she catches my eye and then she's running at me and throwing herself into me. Literally.

Her svelte legs wrap around my waist

'I love you' She breathes out and I spin her around.

And my heart swells with her words.

'I love you' I echo.

And I don't care that everyone is blatantly watching us. I kiss her. Hard.

'Did I do it?' She breathes suddenly and I laugh because she knows she fucking did it. She more than did it.

'No performance can ever out do what you just did sweetheart' I tell her. And it's my god honest opinion. Maybe I'm a little bit bias though, I am in love with her after all.

**Week 12**

**Her**

I wonder if he felt like this when he met my Mum. But this isn't the same. These people can make valid judgements about me and god I want the people he cares about most to like me. And I wish he'd told me they would be here.

He's just sprung it on me. Who does that? _You danced beautiful tonight__ sweetheart oh and by the way my Mum and Keith and Lily, they were all in the audience and are just dying to meet you. _

I'm sure I look a mess too. My hair is still up neatly but my make up is smudged and I'm wearing leggings and a baggy t-shirt.

'Lucas just let me make myself look semi normal-'

'You're beautiful, stop stalling' He drags me up into the foyer and I'm thankful that most people have dwindled because I'm not good with people coming up and telling me I'm wonderful.

I know it's them instantly. His mother has his warm, kind smile and his little sister has his cute nose. She's not as fair as him though, she's inherited her father's dark hair and eyes.

'Here she is' Lucas holds me before him, parading me across the entrance hall and I'm sure everyone is watching and I want him to stop but I won't tell him to.

'Oh Darling it's so nice to finally meet you. Lucas hasn't stopped talking about you' Karen gushes and I'm suddenly thankful he's holding my arms and standing behind me because my nerves are making my legs feel like jello. 'You were absolutely beautiful. I have no words. You made Keith cry and he doesn't cry' The quiet man beside her rolls his eyes but then smiles at me sheepishly. 'And I think Lily is your new number one fan'

His little sister leans into Karen and she looks younger than her twelve years as she shyly looks up at me.

'Wow. I've never seen her so quiet' Lucas teases and he gets a scowl in return.

'Ignore him Lily. He's mean to me too' I find myself saying supportively and Lucas jerks me back against him.

'Hey you' He moans. 'I am not'

'You better not be' Karen warns and I like her. I like all of them.

'He's nice most of the time' I assure her with a smile.

'We're going to grab a late dinner. Would you two like to join?' Keith invites.

I look up at Lucas questioningly.

'Are you too tired?' He's too sweet as he looks down at me. He's giving me a get out.

'I'm fine. Are you sure I won't be intruding?' I look back at his family and Karen is shaking her head.

'Of course not sweetie. I'd love for you to come'

'Yeah she'd rather I didn't' Lucas mumbles and Karen whacks him with her programme and I laugh and I'm suddenly not nervous at all and don't know why I ever was.

**Him**

I'm standing at the bar with Keith, watching the three girls sat at the table near the window.

Lily has slowly come out of her shell and is talking to Peyton and I know from how her hands are moving dramatically in front of her that she's raving about some basket ball team she's just joined. Apparently she's the star player.

Keith teased me relentlessly last week. _My boy the dancer, my girl the basket ball star. _

'You seem happy Luke' Keith's voice hums from beside me. I turn my head to look at him.

It's been hard on them, especially my Mum. I know she's been worried about me.

But the darkness has lifted.

'I'm...I'm pretty wonderful' I admit.

'You love her' He coyly states.

'Yes'

He pats my back. 'Well for the record kid, I like her. A lot. You two seem like a pretty great fit'

And his blessing means more to me than anything.

**Week 13**

**Her**

'You should just apologise' I suggest.

'I'm not apologising. Fuck that Peyton' He's angry and I love that he won't be swayed. That he'd defend me, that he is defending my honor. 'He can shove the fucking job'

'But you're the best teacher...dancer...you can't...you, Knight can't fire you-'

'You have to say all that because you're in love with me' He smirks and all his anger evaporates in the space of a second. 'Peyton it's not as though I was there long, I won't miss it because the thing I loved about it was you and I've still got you'

Now I'm smiling. I plant myself in his lap and nuzzle against his nose. 'I just don't want you to regret anything...especially not cause of me Luke' I exhale.

'Trust me, the only regret I have is not hitting that dick again' He snorts and I know he's joking but he looks kind of serious too.

I run my finger tips over his bruised knuckles. His dismissal is a catalyst to something that's been playing on my mind.

'There's something I want to talk to you about' I softly announce.

'Okay...?'

**Him**

'What would you say if I told you I didn't want to do it anymore?'

I watch her eyes look down, away from me, at anything but me.

'Do what?'

'Dance'

I push my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I can't laugh because she's dead serious. 'You don't want to?'

'I...I've been thinking a lot and...I don't know'

'Everyone is going to want you after this show. Everyone'

Her success, her dancing, I'm suddenly overwhelmed by how much I'm living vicariously through her.

She looks at me now and I don't feel as panicked by this revelation. Because she's her. She's not me. She bites on her bottom lip and I see uncertainty. Even after the last two weeks. She still can't see her potential.

'Maybe'

'There's no maybe about it'

She shrugs. 'And six months ago that would have seemed like a dream come true'

I regard her carefully. 'Now what's your dream?'

'I...I don't know'

'I lost it all Peyton. I didn't get a choice. I got to where you are right now and it was snatched from me, you're on the cusp of greatness and I...just, if you're serious, you need to think long and hard'

'I thought I would have this moment...this moment where I'd, I'd feel like I made it. Like I'd finally be happy. Like I'd arrived'

'What did you feel?'

'I just...' She licks her lips. 'I was, I was thinking...when will this be done with...when can I go home with you. When can I just be with you'

Suddenly the gap between us is too much. I walk the four strides over to her and take her hands in mine. I'm smiling.

'You're not angry?'

'How could I be angry? You just told me you'd pick me over dance. That's a pretty big deal...especially from you' I press my forehead against hers. 'You can have us both though' I exhale.

She's quiet for a long time.

'I've not had a period in five years Luke...if I want...if I...what if I decide I want kids?...I need to stop working myself so hard...'

I nod wordlessly. Because I agree. I agree completely. And suddenly her dancing and my job are irrelevant because I'd choose her every time too.

'I'm just so. I'm just so tired of it all'

I swallow and I'm suddenly kneeling.

'Wh-what are you doing?' Her eyes have gone wide.

'I just realised something...And I...' I'm smiling despite the fact that my heart is racing. 'I want whatever you want. I want to be wherever you are...'

She opens and closes her mouth.

'When I met you I'd lost faith in everything Peyt, I thought I'd only be happy when all my dreams came true but I had an accident and yeah I can still dance but I'll never be able to get back what I lost but the thing is, I'm happier now than I ever have been. And that's because of you. I want forever with you.' I lick my lips and grasp her hands. 'This may feel quick and maybe it is, maybe it's crazy but sometimes the crazy things we do are the best and I don't care anyway because it feels right and all I need to know is that you feel the same, that you love me?'

'Of course I do' Her voice barely carries. 'I love you'

'So how would you feel about letting me put a ring on your finger Peyton Wolf-'

I've barely got out my last word when she's throwing herself at me.

'Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes' She exhales and I topple backward with her landing in my lap. She's smiling and her eyes are teary and she's never looked more beautiful.

'Yes?' I tease.

'Yes' She grasps my face. 'I love you Lucas'

'Yeah? That's promising seeing as we're engaged and all now'

'Mmm, I like how that sounds. I love you' Her nose caresses mine and then I'm kissing her. The kind of kiss you can drown in. Slow and deliberate. And I want to show her. Show her exactly how I feel but she's speaking words into my mouth. 'I've been hiding for so long Luke I thought dancing was my life, but this, right here, being with you, it's a dance I'm never going to tire of'

I roll her onto her back beneath me . 'Mm I'm going to hold you to that'

'I love you' She can't seem to stop with that declaration.

'When did you become so open about your feelings a girly girl?' I pinch her sides and provoke a giggle from her lips.

'Since you wore me down and made me love you. So you better not hurt me Scott'

'Never'

And that's a promise I intend to keep forever.

Who knew that thirteen weeks could change my life so spectacularly. Suddenly, I knew that darkness could come, the world could cave in around us but she would remain; the girl whose passion and beauty had changed my life. And as I lay with her, I realised my faith had been restored. Because we were always meant to meet, I truly believed that. Every moment had been leading me to her, we were meant for each other; I was now, and would always be, in love with Peyton Wolf.


End file.
